


My Heart, My Hearth, My Home

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:03:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: This is a personalized fic for @the-great-irene as part of my 1500 followers celebration on Tumblr. She requested something fluffy with a dog or a pet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @kayteonline who was my fabulous beta and helped me to come up with a title! Honorable mention to @manawhaat because she helped me name the pet.

You were six years old when your parents took you on the grandest vacation ever; the United States. Washington D.C., New York City, Disney World, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, and in the middle of it all, a road trip through the heartland, the plains of the Midwest, the Badlands in South Dakota, and the desert of Death Valley.

You never saw the desert.

After snapping pictures of the rows of color that spanned the jagged peaks of the Badlands, the rental car broke down several miles outside of Wall, your next stop. Your mom talked like it was an adventure to walk miles to the nearest port of civilization, so you tried to see it that way, too, even as your little feet ached and blisters formed from your new sneakers. When you got to Wall, you’d see the famous Wall Drug, which was borne of one person offering free ice water to weary travelers like yourselves. Later, you’d wish for the warmth of the sun beating down on your head, like it had during that long walk.

A mile before Wall, a van stopped and offered you and your family a ride into town. Tired, sweaty, and losing their cheerful demeanor, your parents agreed, against their better instincts.

But they’re called “better instincts” for a reason.

The people who picked you up had cold skin, dead eyes, and sharp teeth. Instead of taking you to see the Corn Palace, they took you to their nest. Instead of offering your family ice water, they drained your parents and locked you in a dark room. The mate of the leader of the nest fawned over you, despite how you cried for your mother, cooing, “I’m your mother, now, sweetness.” Her cold hands and arms brought goosebumps to your skin when she touched you, and you constantly felt chilled to the bone.

Each night, the moon spilled light into your room through cracks in the shutters, bringing along with it memories of your mother. She had loved the moon and the stars, and had encouraged you to dance with her in showers of moonbeams whenever the moon was full. Now, in the cold, dank room, you cried yourself to sleep every night.

Then your savior came.

You awoke one night to the sounds of yelling, mixed with sickening crunches and wet thumps. Trying to make yourself as small as possible, you hid in the corner of your room, behind the bed, clutching the dirty stuffed animal your new “mother” had given you. When the screaming stopped, heavy footfalls went through the house until they stopped in your room. You couldn’t stop the whimpers from escaping as you cried, and the sight of the man made you shake even harder in terror. He loomed above you, blood-spattered and fierce in the shadows, machete dripping on the floor as he stood there, looking down at you.

The machete disappeared and he wiped his hands off on a rag from his back pocket before he squatted in front of you. He spoke as kindly as he could while still issuing what was clearly an order.

“Show me your teeth, kid,” he said, staying outside of your reach, trying to look as friendly as he possibly could with blood-spattered clothing.

You bared your teeth, minus the two that were missing, and the man reached toward your face slowly, moving your lips so he could inspect your gums. When he was satisfied, he dropped his hand and sat down on the floor in front of you.

“My name is John, and I’m here to take you home.”

At his words, you launched yourself into his lap, throwing away the disgusting toy in favor of clutching at him. Your first impression was _warm_. John was just so warm. His hands weren’t cold, they were almost hot as he embraced you, and you finally felt the ice leave your bones as his arms swallowed you.

You attached yourself to him as permanently as you could, leeching the warmth from his body. As he carried you out of the dank farmhouse, he barely needed to support you with your strong hold on him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face pressed into his skin, never minding the blood that glazed him because he was just so _warm_. He wrapped his coat around you, and you sighed, knowing he would never let anything bad happen to you.

He drove his car with you still clinging to him, and carried you into a motel room the same way. You refused to let him go for fear he would disappear and leave you alone again in the cold. He tried to talk to you, asking you your name, trying to convince you that you were safe and could let go, but his words meant nothing. You were finally warm, and you didn’t want to risk ever being cold again.

What finally turned your head away from his neck was a small hand on your back, just as warm as John’s, belonging to an equally small boy with the biggest green eyes you had ever seen.

“My name’s Dean. Sammy and I found a cool set of matchbox cars someone left behind on the playground today. Wanna play?”

Dean looked to be a little older than you, while the boy he showed you, already playing on the floor with the little metal cars, looked to be a bit younger than you. Little Sammy smashed two of the cars together and made a loud crashing noise while banging the two cars together again and again.

“Sammy, don’t crash all the cars! You don’t want to ruin them!” Dean said, rushing over to Sammy’s side and calming the boy’s motions. Dean sat down next to his brother and looked at you with hope and kindness in his eyes. Again, he asked, “Wanna play?”

Carefully and slowly, you let go of John and moved over next to Dean. Hugging yourself to keep the warmth you’d stolen from John you slowly inched closer. Finally, you were pressed right up against him, and he put his arm around you, freely giving you the warmth you craved.

Your voice was cracked and hoarse from crying, but you finally managed to say, “Irene. My name is Irene.”

“Hi, Irene. Don’t worry. Nothin’s gonna get you as long as you’re with us. We’ve got your back.”

Looking up at Dean’s earnest expression, you took his words to heart. As long as Dean was around, you’d be okay.

From that day forward, you were a Winchester. Dean let you cling to him the way you’d clung to John, and he seemed to be eternally warm. At night, Dean and Sam would snuggle around you, no matter how hot it got. If they would try to roll away, you’d wake up immediately and pull them back to you. John soon figured out what had happened to your parents, but when he mentioned you going to live with another family, or even just living with Bobby, you just clung to Dean, who always wrapped his arms around you, and refused.

_Age 10_

Your new normal didn’t take long to get used to. Sometimes, it was just the three of you in a motel room, sometimes, you all stayed with Bobby. You became the light in John’s eyes when nothing else seemed to help, and he’d spend ages holding you after bad hunts, stroking your hair and teasing you about your accent because it made you both smile. At Bobby’s, you and Dean would roam the stacks of rusted-out cars, playing games you made up, each of you adjusting the rules in your own favor, and laughing at the other’s attempts to win in spite of them. On dark nights, when nightmares about your parents haunted you, Dean was always there to hold you and chase away the cold.

One day, the two of you were playing near the entrance to the yard, when you saw a car stop on the road. Dean made you hide, since Bobby didn’t want you playing so close to where cars would zip by, and the two of you watched as a white ball of fluff was pushed out onto the road. As the car sped away, the fluff toddled around a little, then fell over and rolled into the ditch. You broke away from Dean’s hold and ran to the edge, almost slipping into the mud-filled trench yourself.

Dean grabbed your arm just as you put a foot out to try and climb down in to save what you could now see was a puppy. He hauled you back up and glared at you.

“Reenie, you can’t go after it, you’re too little! You’ll never get back out!”

“De, we need to save it! It’s just a puppy! It’ll die if we don’t get it!”

Dean huffed, staring down at the ball of fur, which was now matted with mud. He heaved a heavy sigh, then carefully climbed down into the ditch himself. He picked up the puppy and handed it off to you before climbing out, trying unsuccessfully to save his shoes from the sticky mess. While he tried to clean off his shoes in the grass nearby, you fell in love with the wriggly little dog, who was licking any part of you she could reach.

“Thank you, Dean! We’ll have to clean her up and make sure she’s not injured. Why would someone just leave a puppy like this by the side of the road? Especially one that’s so cute and lovable?” Your words were muffled by the puppy’s excitement as she licked at your face, spreading mud all over your hands, face, and clothes.

“Oh, no, Reenie…you can’t bring that thing into the house. Sam will go nuts and Bobby will have a fit! Dad would never agree to it, either.”

You glared at Dean, then turned on the puppy eyes like Sam had taught you. “Come on, Dean, we can’t just leave her out here! We have to at least clean her up and make sure she’s safe! Anything could happen to her out here, and she’s just so little!”

Dean tried to stay stern, but he melted quickly, his shoulders slumping as he gave in. To try to cheer him up and convince him that he’d made the right decision, you pushed the puppy’s face up to his and let the little pink tongue slurp up Dean’s cheek.

Dean jerked away, waving his arms and putting on his best disgruntled face. “Eww! Fine, we can clean it up and see what Bobby says, but keep it away from me!” He wiped a dirty hand down the side of his face, making his face even dirtier while trying to escape the dog germs. “Yuck!”

Dean was right, and Bobby wasn’t thrilled, but he allowed you and Dean to clean up the dog in the bathtub while you cleaned yourselves up, too.

When you were all clean and Dean was showering, Bobby helped you examine the puppy, and you quickly figured out why it had been abandoned. It was a Chihuahua puppy with fluffy, white hair and big, brown eyes, and a front leg that was bent out of shape. When you placed her on the floor, she held it up and hopped around, excited to have some freedom and completely unbothered by her faulty appendage.

Bobby frowned as the little dog veered toward the bowl of water you had put on the floor, hopping happily until she had her front paw in the bowl itself, splashing water everywhere before she ducked her head and began to drink. “Well, I guess we take her down to the pound, now that she’s all cleaned up.”

Your eyes flew to Bobby’s in dismay. “No! We have to keep her! Nobody’s gonna take her and they’ll kill her, Bobby!! We have to keep her, Bobby, we have to!!” Tears sprang from your eyes, quickly streaming down your face, and you grabbed the puppy, cradling her in your arms protectively.

Dean came running from the bathroom when he heard your cries, haphazardly pulling on his shirt in his hurry to get to you. “What happened, Bobby? Why’s she crying?” He sat down next to you on the floor and pulled you into his arms, comforting you like he always did.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. “I told her we have to take the dog down to the pound, and she disagreed.” He ran a hand over his face and frowned at you. “I’m sorry, but you can’t keep her, Irene. John would blow a gasket at the idea, and being on the road like you all are is no life for a Chihuahua, much less one with a gimpy leg!”

Your wails increased in volume, and the puppy licked your tears from your face. Dean’s arms, strong around your shoulders, rubbed your arms and your back while he tried to calm you down, telling you everything would be okay. You rocked in his arms as you sobbed at the thought of the puppy you were holding being put to sleep.

“If we promised to take care of it every time we’re here, and we do jobs around the house to help pay for food and stuff, could we keep it here with you, Bobby?”

Your watery eyes lifted to look at Dean in awe, then rose further to look at Bobby. “I promise, Bobby, whenever we’re here, I’ll clean up and do chores or whatever you want me to do, and I’ll take care of her and feed her and walk her and everything! Bobby, please?”

Dean nodded next to you. “I’m big enough to mow the lawn and help you in the yard, too. Can we, Bobby?”

Just then, Sam came in the room, distracted from his homework by all the ruckus. “What’s going on out here?”

You pushed the puppy towards Sam, and Sam’s face lit up. “A puppy???” He looked up at Bobby with wonder in his eyes. “You got a puppy, Bobby?”

Bobby looked down at all three of you staring up at him, the puppy playing happily with Sam’s fingers. He heaved a heavy sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I guess I did. But you guys are going to take care of it when you’re here, and do chores without complaint to help pay for it.”

All three of you cheered, and you jumped up throwing your arms around Bobby’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Bobby! We won’t let you down!!”

Bobby patted your back before you broke away from him to play with the puppy again. “Yeah, yeah. I know you won’t, kid.”

Behind you, you heard Dean say, “Thanks, Bobby. I promise, we’ll take care of it.”

“Well, kids, what are you going to name it?”

“Irene should name it since she found it,” Dean answered.

Your eyes were glued to the little ball of white fur currently licking Sam’s face like he was made of beef jerky. “Lunita. She’s white, like the moon, but she’s little. Lunita for Little Moon.”

Bobby grimaced. “Lunita?” He looked at the dog and sighed. “All right, Lunita it is.” He grabbed his jacket and car keys and looked at the three of you, all playing with the puppy. “Dean, you’re in charge while I go get supplies.”

Dean nodded and Bobby left, the roar of his car’s engine fading into the distance. You looked up at Dean, your protector and defender.

“Thanks, Dean.”

Dean looked down at you, his cheeks tinged pink. “No sweat, Reenie. I’ll always have your back.”

_Age 18_

Everything was falling into place. John had let you and Sam stay at Bobby’s for almost a whole semester so you could finally get your transcripts together and graduate high school. Dean had given up and gotten his GED, not wanting to deal with studying things he already knew just to get a piece of paper and walk across the stage in a stupid robe. You, however, wanted it all. You wanted the stage, the piece of paper, the cap, the gown, and most importantly, the prom.

Tim Houseman was everything you wanted. He was tall, dark, and handsome, with a ready smile and steady hands. He didn’t mind your usual attire of jeans, old band tees, and flannels with combat boots. He liked that you liked action movies and old westerns as well as romantic comedies and cartoons. He told you that the ponytail you kept your wild curls in was sexy, and a girl who could take care of herself was golden. He said you were beautiful without all the trappings of femininity other girls indulged in, like makeup, hair spray, tight skirts, and revealing tops. He even thought the way you fixed a rusty spark plug in his dad’s old Plymouth was a huge turn-on.

You’d spent so much time looking for a boy who made you feel the way Tim worked to make you feel. Each boy who flirted with you or asked you out fell short somehow. They all seemed great on paper, but when it came right down to it, they were all missing something. Tim was easy-going and just cool. Out of all the boys you’d dated, you thought he might be the one to finally make you feel that special thrill you’d read about in the trashy novels you hid at the bottom of your duffle. He could have any girl, but he’d chosen you to go to the prom with him. Other girls had shown their jealousy, trying to tell you it was all just a joke, but Tim was true to you. You’d only shared a few quick, chaste kisses, but this was _prom night_. Anything could happen, and you were ready.

Bobby took you shopping, dedicating an entire stolen credit card to getting “whatever frou frou crap you think you need for this shindig,” on the condition he didn’t have to participate much. He gave you his opinions on what dresses looked good on you, but he was biased, and thought all the dresses looked good on you. The day of the prom, you took extra care to look good. You shaved and moisturized everything you could think of, putting on the special matching bra and panties you’d bought when Bobby was actively not looking. You styled your hair so it flowed over the one shoulder your dress clung to, leaving the other shoulder bare and begging to be touched. Deciding that you wanted to be prepared for whatever the evening might bring, you popped a couple of condoms into your purse, even though you didn’t really expect to use them.

The night went by quickly and pleasantly. Tim’s friends were nice to you, if not really friendly. The chicken was a little rubbery, but the dessert was rich and sweet, and Tim winked at you before kissing a smudge of chocolate off your lips. Between the restaurant and the school, Tim pulled his car over at a local scenic overlook because he said he couldn’t wait another minute to kiss you again. Kisses intermingled with gentle touches and flirty smiles throughout the entire evening as Tim did his best to make you feel special and beautiful and wanted.

By the end of the night, though, you knew it was over before it had even begun.

Yeah, you could go with the flow and hand over your virginity to Tim, knowing that he cared about you and you hadn’t thrown it away to just anyone. Tim was nice and sweet and attentive and handsome and everything you wanted, but there was no thrill when he touched you. There were no butterflies in your stomach when he looked at you. When he kissed you, you wondered where your tongue was supposed to go, and if he’d had garlic for lunch, or was that peanut butter? And was he trying to eat both of your lips at the same time? How could such a great guy be such a sloppy kisser?

When there was only an hour to go, you faked an upset stomach, blaming something you ate, and begged Tim to take you home. You apologized to him about a thousand times for ruining his evening, and his kind and understanding replies only made you feel worse. By the time you were home, your stomach actually was in knots from the guilt of lying to him. A completely faked sour burp prevented a godawful goodnight kiss before you ran into the house to your freedom, shutting the door behind you and leaning on it with a dejected sigh. You closed your eyes and wondered how long you would have to wait to find someone who made you feel something.

“You’re home early. I thought prom night was supposed to end with a walk of shame?”

Your eyes flew open to see Dean leaning in the doorway to the living room, wearing only a tight t-shirt and jeans, both his arms and his bare feet crossed. He was supposed to be on a hunt for another couple of days, so you were completely surprised to see him standing there. His stance opened up to catch you when you launched yourself across the room and into his arms with a happy cry of his name. All the discomfort and feelings of _wrong_ that had haunted your entire evening faded away in the warmth of Dean’s arms. He let his head drop against your bare shoulder, and the stubble on his chin tickled your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. When you finally released him from your hold, he put his hands on your shoulders and looked at you with concern in his eyes.

“Seriously, sweetheart, what happened? Was he an ass? Do I need to go rip his lungs out?”

His sincerity and seriousness made you laugh. “No, Dean! He was fine. It was all fine, I just got bored, that’s all, so I faked an illness and made him bring me home.”

Dean’s eyes were steady on yours as one of his hands left your shoulder, dropping for a second before following his hand. He seemed to want to touch your face, or your hair, or something, because his hand waved around you before the strange moment passed. He pushed both of his hands into his pockets and tried to give you a stern smile.

“Good. I’m tired from the hunt and not in the mood to clean up another body, anyway.”

Your hand smacked into his chest as you pushed him out of your way, hoping to cover your sudden and unexpected inability to breathe properly with forced normality. “Except for a couple of lousy kisses, he was a perfect gentleman. No need to defend my honor, you goof,” you laughed, stepping past him and tossing your purse on the couch. “Besides, I can defend my own honor, or have you forgotten that you taught me how to fight?” Your shoes flew into the corner of the room as you kicked the godawful torture devices off your sore feet. Relief flooded your system at being in the only home you’d known since you were little, and as comfortable as you could be while still wearing a prom dress. Deciding that you were too tired to climb the stairs to your room and change just then, you flopped down on the couch.

Dean attempted to grab your purse to shove it away, but it slipped from his fingers and dumped its contents all over the floor. You jumped to grab everything and put it back, but Dean got to the condoms, first.

“Reenie…?” The look on Dean’s face was a mixture of emotions, none of which you could decipher. He took a deep breath and let it out unevenly, then gave you one of his signature smirks and tossed the condoms to you. “Wow. The guy must have really screwed up if you were packin’ these, and still came home early.” His cheeks had a pink tinge to them you’d never seen before, but he hid it well as he turned to scoop up the rest of the debris from your purse.

For reasons you didn’t quite understand, you hid your own face, which felt way too hot, while you tried to laugh it all off. “Hey, I was taught by the best to always be prepared for anything. It’s why I always take a machete to a werewolf den, even though only silver will do the trick.” Your purse was back together, now, but without something to occupy your hands, you suddenly couldn’t figure out what to do with your limbs. Normally, you’d be so comfortable with Dean, but right then, you were torn between running away and burying yourself in his warmth and hiding.

The two of you sat down on the couch, both of you trying to act normal, but keeping an unusual distance between you. Dean turned on the TV and flipped through the channels while you picked at the fabric of your dress. After he dropped the remote on the coffee table, he sat back and stretched his arm out along the back of the couch like he always did. His hand brushed against the nape of your neck and a swarm of goosebumps raced down your back and arm, making you shiver.

“You cold?” Dean asked, tugging you closer to him like he always did.

You weren’t, but welcomed his warmth, anyway. You snuggled into his side, kicking your feet up onto the couch. The images on the screen flickered in front of you, but you were completely unaware of what you were watching. Dean’s thumb stroked your bare shoulder absently, his hand warm on your skin. Tingles spread from every part of him that was touching you all throughout your body, leaving you with an excited warmth in your belly.

_Butterflies._

You looked up at Dean, suddenly seeing everything you’d spent the evening looking for in Tim. Eons passed as you stared at Dean, taking in all the details that you knew so well and studying them under this new light. God, Tim never stood a chance.

Dean glanced down at you and smiled. “What? I got somethin’ on my face or somethin’?”

“Nah,” you replied, shaking your head. “Just missed you, and I’m glad you’re back.”

The two of you settled back to watching the movie, but you didn’t take any of it in. Your mind raced, exploring this new feeling and considering options. In the end, you knew nothing could ever happen. Dean was like your big brother, your protector, your best friend. If you tried this and it didn’t work, your entire life would be destroyed.

No, it was best to ignore this, and just make do with whoever else came along. Tim wasn’t Dean, but he was a good guy, and he cared about you. Best of all, if things with him crashed and burned, you’d always have Dean to help you pick up your pieces.

_Age 20_

You held the little girl in your arms while she cried for her dead mother. Rage filled your body as her sobs pierced your heart. Every hunter you had met since you became John Winchester’s daughter was convinced vampires were extinct, yet here was another child left without a mother because of them. Even John and Bobby were surprised, telling you that no one in the hunter community had even heard of a vampire attack since the one that took your parents. Obviously, there were still vampires out there, they were just getting better at hiding.

When the girl’s father took her from your arms, you looked him in the eye and said, “This won’t go unpunished. They won’t do this to anyone else, if it’s the last thing I do.”

The man clutched his daughter tightly, eyes wide with fear as he stared at the dead determination on your face. He tried to speak, but only a squeak escaped, so he turned around and walked away, taking his daughter to his car before driving far, far away.

Five minutes later, you had your weapons locked and loaded, gun in the waistband of your jeans at the small of your back, machete sheathed at your hip, syringes of dead man’s blood in your jacket pockets, and a crossbow with arrows tipped in dead man’s blood strapped to your back. You were gone before any of the Winchesters could realize what you were planning.

John and Dean had attacked the nest earlier in the day, rescuing the living, but unable to completely wipe it out without endangering the victims. They had chosen to save who they could and come back later. While they were still dealing with victims, you were free, and you were pissed.

The farmhouse loomed in front of you as you spotted two female vamps through the windows, packing up everything of value in the house. John and Dean had mentioned that they thought there were at least two men and two women left in the nest, so you suspected the men were out hunting the hunters.

You could change that.

Aiming your crossbow at the window, you watched the two vamps move around the room. After a tense few minutes, you got a perfect shot and let the arrow fly. One vamp went down, and before the other could do more than stare in shock at the window, you cocked another arrow and let that one fly, too, catching the other vamp in the shoulder.

You pulled your machete from its holster as you stormed the house. In less than a minute, one vamp was headless and the other had fear in her eyes. Holding one of your syringes at her neck, you pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and snarled, “Call them back. Call them all back.”

“They’ll gut you,” she growled as she dialed.

“Let them try,” you sneered.

Before she could get out more than two words, you injected her with enough blood to shut her down, making sure the call was still open as you removed her head from her shoulders. Panting a little from the effort, you picked up the phone and said, “Come and get me, leech. I’ll be waiting.”

Someone miscalculated. Ten minutes later, instead of two vamps approaching the house, you saw four in the dim evening moonlight, and suspected more were coming from the back. You set yourself up with your crossbow cocked and ready, and prepared to finally see your parents again.

The first two entered the living room from your left, and you took them both down easily with your crossbow just in time to drop it and swing your machete at the third. The fourth gave you a fight, but you managed to get a syringe of blood into his side during the scuffle and he went down. As the first started coming back around, you separated his head. Before you could get to the second, two more entered the room.

Your energy was flagging, but you kept fighting. The vamps pummeled you with hit after hit, and your hits were getting weaker and less precise. Instead of lopping off a head, you sliced into an arm. Instead of injecting another one with more blood, your hand was caught, and the syringe was crushed in your fist. These two were wearing you down when suddenly the second stood up, the effects of the small amount of blood on the arrow completely wearing off.

One held you while the other two circled, not saying a word, just leering at you like you were a steak. Just when you thought all was lost, both vampires standing in front of you and snarling, their heads fell off their shoulders with a wet thud, revealing Dean’s badass pout of doom.

“Back off, hunter, the girl is mine,” the vampire holding you against his chest growled. His teeth grazed the skin of your neck, and a pang of fear shot through you. It didn’t last long, though, and was soon replaced by murderous rage. You let your head drop down and your body go lax as if you had passed out, and when the vampire holding you went to shift so he wouldn’t drop you, you slammed your head back into his nose so hard you heard it crunch.

The vampire let you go, clutching at his face while you clutched at your head. Dean stepped in and took the vampire out with a well-placed punch and a mighty swing of his machete. The vampire dropped to the floor in two pieces, and Dean’s arms were around you, holding you up as you sagged against him.

“Holy shit, Dean, you never told me doing that would hurt like a fucking bitch!” you growled, holding your head in your hands.

Dean crushed you to his chest, cradling your head against his shoulder. “That’s because I’ve never seen anyone crush someone’s nose so thoroughly before. He looked like one of those dogs with the pushed-in faces, you know, what are they called…pugs?” Dean chuckled, letting out some of the nerves that were trapped inside from the close call. “What the fuck were you thinking, coming out here by yourself, Reenie?”

The adrenaline from the fight started wearing off, and your limbs started shaking. Dean’s arms were solid around you, holding you up as your knees buckled from the realization that you almost died. This wasn’t your first hunt, but all you’d hunted before were ghosts, and always with John and Dean. Dean caught you before you slipped out of his hold and moved you over to a chair, setting you in his lap while tears streamed down your face.

“That little girl. She lost her mother. She’s so little, Dean,” you managed to whimper in between sobs. “I know the vampires who killed my parents are dead, but I just couldn’t sit by while this nest got away. They had to pay for what they did.”

Dean rubbed your arms and kissed your head, trying to comfort you. “I know, Reenie, but you came out here by yourself, half-cocked!” He cupped your face in his hands and forced you to look into his eyes. “You could have died, Reenie! You could have died, and then what would I have done? I-- We need you, Reenie, especially now that Sam’s gone. You can’t just throw yourself away like that!”

Dean’s eyes were wild and glassy, and your stomach plummeted. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wasn’t thinking. I thought I could take out four vampires, and didn’t stop to make sure there weren’t more. I should have done more recon.”

Dean kissed your forehead and crushed you to his chest again. “You should have waited for me and Dad. We can’t have your back if you sneak off like that.”

Exhaustion took over and you melted further into Dean’s arms, the familiar safety and warmth filling you. “Okay, Dean. I promise. Never again.”

_Age 27_

Dean’s deal was up in a little over 24 hours, and you were trying to get some rest before, well, just _before_. You’d already lost John, you’d spent an agonizing couple of days thinking you’d lost Sam, and now you had to face losing Dean. When you became a Winchester, you thought you’d never have to lose anyone again, but you were wrong. And this was Dean. You just couldn’t picture your life without Dean.

Dean was just always there. He was there when John saved you. He was there for your first hunt and your first kill. He was there when you found Lunita, and he was there when you had to put her down because her little body was failing. Dean was there for your first day of school, he interrogated your first date, he taught you how to cook your first meal and shoot your first gun. He was your safety net, your inspiration, your home, and now he wasn’t going to be there much longer.

Tears streamed from your eyes as you tried to contemplate life without Dean. Yeah, Sam might step up and take Dean’s place in some things, but he wouldn’t be Dean. Dean was special. Although you were only Dean’s little sister, Dean was your everything. Yes, he cared about you, but it wasn’t quite the way you cared about him, even though you had decided long ago that it wasn’t worth the risk to try.

As if you had conjured him just from the thought, the bed dipped behind you and Dean was there, wrapped around you, his warmth seeping into your skin like it always did.

“Hey, sweetheart, no crying. Not yet. There’s still some hope. Sammy and Bobby will find something. There’s nothing the two of them can’t solve when they put their heads together.”

You wiped the tears from your face and tried to compose yourself, not wanting Dean to realize that you were suffering from more than sisterly concern for his welfare. “I know. I’m just worrying for nothing, I’m sure.”

The two of you stayed there for a while, neither of you talking. The quiet stretched between you as you waited for Dean's body to relax into sleep, but it never did. Instead, his arms tightened around you as he took a deep breath.

“Sweetheart, no matter what happens tomorrow, there's something you need to know.”

You tried to turn to face him, but his arms kept you in place.

“Please, I need to say this, and it's easier this way,” he said into your ear, his voice rough. He rubbed a spot on your arm to calm you, and you tried to will your racing heart to show down.

“The first time you looked at me with those gorgeous eyes of yours, I knew you were something special. Later, Dad told us you would be our sister, but I knew you'd never be just a sister to me. Even though I was only 8 years old, something inside me said you were mine. I tried to deny it, tried to stand by while you lived your life, tried to wish that you'd find some nice, normal guy and get out of the life, but I couldn't do it. Every time I thought of you being anywhere but with me, it made me crazy.”

Blood pounded in your ears, almost drowning out Dean’s words. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“I’ve denied it for so many years, sweetheart, but if this is my last night topside, I want to spend it honestly. Even if you don’t feel about me the way that I feel about you, at least now you know. You’re nothing short of awesome, and you deserve far more than I could have ever given you.”

When you started struggling against his hold, Dean finally let you go. You couldn’t turn towards him fast enough, tears in your eyes as you tried to search for his face to find the lie, though all you saw in his eyes was fear. He was afraid you’d run away and reject him. Before he could entertain that thought a moment longer, you pushed yourself forward and slammed your mouth on his.

Even though you had spent years dreaming of it, the kiss was more than you ever expected. Dean’s lips fit together with yours like puzzle pieces. Everything about the kiss was perfect, and soon your tongue was tangled with his. Sparks flew as fireworks went off all around you, lighting you up from the inside out. Dean finally came up for air, holding your face with his hands as he searched your expression.

“Really?” he said, his voice barely more than a rough whisper.

“I didn’t always know it, but I’ve always been yours, Dean. I just never thought you could ever feel the same, so I buried it.”

Dean’s face split into a wide smile before his lips landed on yours again. Years of repressed yearning and desire exploded between the two of you, leaving torn clothing and embarrassed giggles in their wake. Dean uncovered every inch of you with wonder in his eyes while you did the same, marveling that you were now allowed to look, to kiss, to touch.

It was as if you had an owner’s manual and Dean had studied every page. Every touch lit you up from the inside, every kiss created swarms of butterflies in your stomach, and every moan sent liquid heat through your veins until you were humming with need. Dean teased you while he teased himself, spending more time than either of you really wanted nibbling on your skin, leaving marks everywhere he went and whispering odes to your beauty. When he settled between your thighs, kissing and sucking your most sensitive places, your first orgasm caught you unprepared, and you tugged on his hair while your thighs locked around his head.

When your fingers and legs relaxed, Dean took a deep breath as he grinned up at you. “Holy shit, Reenie, that was awesome!”

A chuckle erupted from you, cutting through the pleasure-induced haze. “That was…” you said, your head shaking as you tried to force your brain to make words.

Dean slid up your body, letting you feel the perfect of weight him on top of you, his hard length pressing into your thigh. “That was just the beginning, sweetheart,” he whispered, smiling as he claimed your lips again with his own. As he pushed into you, a sigh left your body that felt like you had been holding it for years. Every doubt, every yearning, every tear you’d shed wishing Dean would love you slipped away when he bottomed out inside of you. This was everything you’d ever wanted. This was home.

He tried to take things slow, draw everything out as long as possible, but so many years of repressed desire collected and soon you were both crying out each other’s names as you came. You continued moving together until it was uncomfortable, not wanting to separate and have it be over. When Dean finally pulled away from you, it was only to grab his shirt from the floor and clean you up before laying back down and pulling you against him. Your head rested on his chest, your ear pressed against his skin, listening to the steady _thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump_ of his heart. It was a heart that loved you, and you did your best to memorize the sound, pushing away the thought of why you needed it memorized.

Neither of you said anything about it, you just slept fitfully, waking often to share kisses and caresses, and sometimes more. It was a perfect night, and when it was over, the two of you went downstairs to where Sam and Bobby had fallen asleep over their books and gently woke them.

“Hey guys, time to wake up,” you said quietly, giving Bobby a little shake so you didn’t startle him while Dean flicked Sam’s ear, earning himself a smack as the younger hunter flailed awake. You looked over what was left of your little family with a tight smile. “If we’re gonna have Dean’s back today, we’ve got work to do.”

_Age 35_

Mick Davies was dragging Toni Bevell away in chains while you clung to your husband. Cas’s eyes were trained on you as he healed you, and you sent him a quick prayer saying, “Not now. As soon as we’re home safe.” Cas nodded and gave you an extra-long look of approval before turning to Sam to heal him, too. Dean formally introduced you to Mary, and you shook her hand, not wanting to be away from Dean’s warmth for a second.

Back in the bunker, you made your excuses and dragged Dean to your bedroom. Once you were alone, you covered him in kisses, finally letting the tears flow that you’d been biting back since the moment you’d thought he’d died again. Dean showered you in kisses, too, telling you about all of his fears when he’d seen the blood on the floor in the map room.

“I mean, I know you’re a tough chick, my little Purgatory Queen,” Dean joked, referring to how you’d taken to Purgatory even better than he had, “but I couldn’t stop my brain from thinking the worst up until the moment I saw you alive in that basement.” Dean’s face was serious, now, his hands cupping your head as he gazed into your eyes. “Even with my mom by my side, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you and Sam.”

Surging forward, you kissed him happily, hoping to distract him from his maudlin what-ifs. Dean tried to turn the kiss dirty, but you broke away from him before he could get too far. “Stop for just a second, baby, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Dean stalled, worry taking over his expression. “What’s wrong? That bitch didn’t do anything to you that Cas couldn’t heal, right?” He sat down on the bed with a little bounce when you pushed him over playfully.

“It’s nothing bad, Dean, I swear! Just sit there a minute and let me talk, okay?”

Dean pulled you between his legs and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your belly. “All right, talk,” he said, his hands running up and down your back, giving you a playful squeeze on your butt.

You smiled down at him, running your fingers through his hair. “You know, with all the worry about Amara and Chuck, some things kind of got away from me for a bit, there.”

Dean looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Like what? You’re okay, right?”

Heat filled your face as you gave him a shy smile. “I hope I’m better than okay.” Your fingers caressed the side of his head while you took a deep breath and dived in. “I’m pregnant, Dean.”

Dean froze, his eyes wide as he stared up at you. His mouth opened and closed a bit like a fish, and you rushed to explain.

“I didn’t plan it, it just happened. No birth control is 100%, and I may have missed a pill or two when we were trying to get Cas back.” A fearful sigh escaped you while you waited for Dean’s brain to process what you’d told him.

Dean pulled away from you just enough for him to look at your stomach, and then back up at you with wide eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A baby?”

You nodded, feeling relief flood your system at Dean’s positive response. “Uh huh.” How you could have ever doubted that Dean would be anything but supportive was silly. Dean always had your back.

Dean’s hands traced your curves, settling on your hips as he stared at your stomach. Impulsively, he kissed your belly, then pulled you down into his lap so he could kiss your mouth. “I’m gonna be a dad?” he asked, pushing you back and then laying you out on the bed so he could lay beside you.

Looking up at him from the pillows, you nodded. “Yeah, Dean. You’re gonna be a dad.” For a second, you thought your face might split with a smile you couldn’t seem to control. You had worried that Dean would be afraid or angry, but he was happy. He was really happy.

Dean ran his hands all over your belly as if he could feel the baby, even though your belly was still flat. “Holy crap, there’s gonna be a baby!” His glee turned to worry as he looked up at you. “We need things!” He sat up as the wheels in his head started turning. “We need diapers and a crib and clothes and bottles and….” Dean’s voice faded out and he turned to look at you, still smiling. “Do Sam and Cas know? Can I tell Mom?”

Laughing, you pushed him off the bed. “Cas knows, but only because he’s an angel, so go tell your brother! And your mom! Whoever you want to tell!”

Dean gave you a chaste kiss before running out of the room yelling at the top of his lungs, “Hey, Sammy, get out here! We’ve got work to do! You’re gonna be an aunt!”

 


End file.
